


Calling Out

by srvipers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Multi, Necromancy, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Time Travel, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-02 07:01:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15791385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/srvipers/pseuds/srvipers
Summary: Tom had never been like the other children- magical or muggle- because even in the wizarding world, hearing voices is never a good sign. But Harry has been with him from the very beginning, and Tom would do anything in the world to have Harry completely by his side, both in mind and in body.





	1. If Wishes Were Horses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of J.K.Rowlings works and I make no profit from this fic. I do not have have a beta so all mistakes are my own.
> 
> This idea has been on my mind for awhile now and I finally sat down and began typing. I usually only write short one-shots but I wanted to try my hand at a long fic this time. I will state now that it's going to be a slow build, and it'll be a long time before the two even become an item. I'm going to throw in a lot of different headcanons regarding wizarding traditions, politics, magical studies, etc. but I'll try to make it flow as smoothly as possible. Also, the fic is going to start primarily in Tom's POV so we are going to learn as Tom does. That's all I'm going to say about that :)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Prologue: If Wishes Were Horses

* * *

Tom was sitting alone in the playroom with a 30-piece puzzle in front of him, fully aware of the caretakers whispering about him. The other children were running around him paying little attention to the watchful eyes of the caretakers. He added another piece to the puzzle, smiling as he noticed he had less than half the puzzle down. A warm feeling of pride tingled his fingers and arms and Tom wanted to giggle at the feeling. He added another piece, then another, before one of the younger caretakers finally made her way over to him. She was new, her second week here actually, so she didn’t know to stay away from him like the other caretakers did.

When he saw her walking towards him, _something_ wanted him to smile, but he just couldn’t. He didn’t _want_ to smile at her. He was having fun and he didn’t want to get his hopes up with her. The others would tell her sooner or later and he’d be hated by her just like he was from the others. A warm breeze raised the hairs on the back of his neck and the urge to smile left, but that _something_ stayed- he knew that it would never leave him for anything, and he could make himself smile for that.

She crouched in front of him, balling her skirts to keep them off the floor. She smiled pleasantly and Tom found it in himself to give her a small smile. Not because _something_ wanted him to, only ‘cause he had manners and it would be rather rude. It didn’t stop the tingle of pride that danced from his fingers up his arm though, and Tom smiled wider at the feeling. The caretaker, _Martha_ the something whispered, seemed to be encouraged by his smile and began asking him questions.

“What are you making Tom?” “Do you like puzzles?” “What is your favorite puzzle?” “Why are you playing by yourself Tom?”

The last question made Tom look away quickly- not out of shame or hurt, but to hide the scowl that he couldn’t seem to stop. Why would he want to play with the others? They were stupid and mean and they hated Tom, and he hated them right back. He didn’t answer her and went back to his puzzle. She sighed and tried to get him to answer him but he continued to ignore her as his own rage tingled in his lower stomach.

“Aren’t you lonely Tom?”

He looked up at her in both confusion and shock. Lonely? Who ever said he was lonely? How could he ever be lonely?

“No ma’am. I’m never lonely.”

She doubted that very much, but with no further answer from Tom and him going back to ignoring her, she decided to leave him to his puzzle. _What a dumb woman_ , Tom thought to himself as he placed another piece in the puzzle. The last piece clicked in place and pride tingled his fingers and arms and Tom smiled brightly. _Maybe the other kids could be lonely, but I have you._

A pulsing warmth spread from the center of his chest and traveled up his arms and to his shoulders and Tom thought, this must be what a hug feels like.

* * *

Martha became just like all the other caretakers in the orphanage and grew weary of the silent boy who liked to play by himself while the other children laughed and played around him. The more time spent in the orphanage the more she learned to keep away. So far he hadn’t done anything wrong, not at all, but there was something about him that was just _off_.  He was only at the tender age of five, but she found it hard to stay around him without breaking out in a sweat or shivering from a sudden cold chill. She couldn’t find it in herself to hate the child like some of the other caretakers, or even the Matron on a bad day, but she wasn’t brave enough to stay around him.

Tom regretted smiling at her all those days ago.

* * *

Tom started calling the foreign entity _the something_ . It didn’t feel right to call it by a specific name because he feels like it has a name and calling it by anything else but it’s name would just be rude. The Matron didn’t raise rude children. So Tom called it _it_ and _the something_ . Maybe others would find it more rude, but Tom also doesn’t know what it is exactly in the first place. Tom thinks it could be a person, since he could swear sometimes he could hear _words,_ but how can a feeling and voices inside Tom’s head and under his skin be a person?

He looked at books once, on the random time he was able to successfully escape the orphanage and make his way to the library. Most of them were fairy tales and fiction and Tom barely gave them a cursory read through. The other books were medical tomes, and he consumed them with a fervor, but soon- when he learned about the mental studies and the experiments and the stigma- he wanted to burn the books out of existence.

He wasn’t crazy, and he’d rather die than be taken to the asylum.

And besides, he was confident that what he feels and hears isn’t near the same as the accounts printed in the books.

He hides the books deep in the library far far away from curious eyes. The Matron would never willingly step into this building, but Tom can't help the image of her finding them and reading the words and finding the perfect excuse to send him away from all the good people of society. If he thought he could pull it off without being caught, he’d burn the books himself.

He gave the fairy tales a second chance and found a deep hope that maybe, hopefully, it’s stories were closer to the truth of what he’s dealing with.

* * *

He didn’t dream often, and when he did, he rarely remembered them. He hoped desperately to remember this one, because in this one he was loved.

He dreamed of a room with red chairs and gold fixtures and the strong warmth of a roaring fire. The room was circular and the walls were made of old stone and Tom felt as if he was home. He walked the large room, trailing hands over the soft plush couches and letting his bare feet brush the rugs.

“Oh!”

Tom spun around at the voice, never expecting another person to be part of this strange and wonderful dream.

A young man stood in front of him, with sun-kissed skin and dark shaggy hair and eyes the most captivating green he’d ever seen.  He was wearing dark robes that were thrown loosely over his clothes and beneath it were a simple white dress shirt and black trousers. A red and gold tie hung loosely around his neck and he seemed to be paused in the motion of stuffing his shirt back into his trousers. Tom was at a loss, as he’d never seen such a captivating person before. Had he? How could he not have remembered him?

His thoughts were stopped the second the boy smiled brightly, his eyes crinkling in actual happiness and Tom had to stop himself from getting too emotional. No one, ever, smiled this way at him before. Not even the nice lady who gave candy to the orphaned children, or the few people who came in to adopt one of them out. Not even the caretakers or the Matron who he has known his whole life.

The young man walked over to him quickly with raised arms and something instinctual took over Tom as he spread his arms wide so he can be easily pulled into the man's embrace. He had never been hugged before like this, but he learned how to accept hugs from watching all the other children and seeing the happy normal families from his window.

The boy was warm, almost hot to the touch, and Tom couldn’t understand why it felt comfortable. He didn’t care much for heat usually, rather preferring cooler temperatures, but this boy’s natural heat thawed Tom’s natural coldness and he coveted it. _Yearned_ for it. Never wanted to let it go. Tom tightened his arms and the mystery boy’s only response was to laugh and tighten his own arms. Almost like he craved Tom’s cool touch to simmer down his own overwhelming heat.

Tom didn’t know how long they stood there standing in the middle of the room in their embrace. Tom never wanted it to end if he was being honest with himself, but soon the young man moved out of the embrace regardless of Tom’s silent protest. He kept his hands on Tom’s shoulders though, seemingly unable to fully separate himself from Tom’s person, and Tom was secretly pleased. He looked up at the mystery man and when their eyes connected he smiled warmly. Everything about this person screamed comfort and warmth to Tom and he wished desperately to soak up the heat the man gave off in waves.

“I never expected to see you in here, at least not for a couple more years.” The boy began as he lead Tom over to one of the couches near the fire. He sat next to Tom and draped his arm around his shoulder to pull him close and Tom found himself leaning against the mystery young man. _What a strange dream this was_ , but Tom didn’t complain by the gesture and actually found himself pressing himself as close as he possibly could to the man’s side. It took him a moment to process the mans words actually, and he snapped his head up to stare at the man in confusion.

“Wait, what do you mean? Where is here? I thought I was dreaming…”

“Oh,” the boy began looking a little worried. “ I don’t know how much I should tell you given you’re only-”

“Don’t lie to me!” Tom hissed, separating himself fully from the boys side. How dare he. He didn’t care if he was pretty and warm and kind- he hated when adults lied and schemed and insulted him in this way. He was young but he wasn’t stupid! “Don’t hide things from me! I’m old enough to understand things a lot better than adults.”

The young man’s eyes widened in shock before a look of concern took over his face. He didn’t dare reach out for Tom again as he seemed to be ready to bolt.  “I’m sorry Tom, that’s not what I meant at all.”

Tom glared harder. “Then what did you mean? Tell me everything! And no lies- I can always tell when people lie.”

“It’s not your age that I’m concerned about, believe me, I know more than anyone else what goes on through your mind. You’re bloody brilliant Tom.”

Tom felt his face grow hot at the sudden praise. He looked away and crossed his arms. No one had ever complimented him and _mean_ it like this guy did so easily. “Don’t try to distract me.”

The guy laughs, and Tom doesn’t understand why he relaxes when he hears it. Usually nothing good comes from other people's laughter and Tom always feels weary, but this mystery person doesn’t have that same effect on Tom.

“I can’t tell you much,” He raises a hand to stop Tom’s protest, “and it’s not because I don’t want to. But more than likely when you wake up you’re going to forget this whole conversation, this room, and especially me.”

“You don’t know that!” Tom hisses, feeling anger rise in him again. Just another adult who likes to keep things from him.

He sighs, “I do Tom, because you’re not really here. Your subconscious is here with me now, but when you wake up, it’ll be like a distant dream. And we both know you don’t really remember them.”

It should freak him out, and in truth it kind of does, but Tom is more shocked by how much he _knows_ him. Knows things even people he regularly interact with couldn’t possibly know.

“When-” Tom stops. It’s hard to get the words out, because the slight fear of having a complete stranger know him so well is slowly dawning on him.

The mystery guy smiles knowingly and Tom can’t tell if he wants to cry in happiness or yell in anger.

“Soon. Very soon. Everyday I feel myself getting stronger and stronger. Do you ever feel me? The tingling in your fingers? The heat on your chest? The voice and feeling you call _the something_?”

Tom doesn’t know when he looked away, but his gaze snapped back to the bright green eyes in awe. “That’s _you_?”

“Yes.”

“I feel you...more and more each day. I remember when there was quiet days in between _the somethings_ reactions, but now it’s like you’re there with me constantly.”

“Tom,” the guy goes to crouch in front of Tom, and he grasps his small hands in his own tightly. “Every day I’m gaining my strength back little by little, and soon, I will be able to speak to you, and I’ll tell you everything.”

It took a long time for Tom to reply. He didn’t know what to believe. Everything that was happening was all a little overwhelming, and the guy was holding his _hand_ . He didn’t cringe at Tom’s cold skin and he didn’t flinch away from him. This whole time _he_ initiated all physical contact with _Tom_. He knows it’s stupid to base his decision on that alone, but, it was really nice and Tom didn’t want it to stop. If he had to sacrifice a little to get this comfort then he’d do it.

He wasn’t going to make it easy though. He gave his best glare, the one that made the caretakers shiver and little Ann cry. “You swear it?”

“I promise Tom.”

Tom pulled his hand away and crossed his arms across his chest. His brows furrowed further. “No! Swear it!”

He could see amusement in the green eyes of the mystery guy and Tom couldn’t help but bristle a bit. His hurt pride soothed a bit when the guy stood up and wrapped strong arms around Tom’s small frame.

“I swear it Tom.” The guy whispered, and Tom believed him.

* * *

When Tom awoke the next morning, he wasn’t surprised to find that he didn’t remember his dream at all. But what did surprise him was how warm he felt for many days after.

He had many more dreams after that night, and each morning he had little to no memory of what he dreamed about. The strangest part wasn’t the fact he didn’t remember them, but what was strange was the overlapping feelings left after each one.

One time he woke up with the feel of grass underneath his fingertips. Another time he kept shivering as if winter itself was nipping at his skin. The most bizarre feeling was the rushing feeling of flying and endless freedom. The best feeling had to be when he woke up feeling powerful, like deep in his bones he knew he was stronger, faster, and simply _more_ than anyone else in the world.  

But the feeling that was constant and unchanging was the encasing warmth that followed him around for days.

* * *

Slowly, slowly, so painstakingly slowly, _the_ _something_ became a _person_.

Not flesh and bone and a child like Tom- that would be too easy and too perfect. But Tom wasn’t going to selfishly demand more when he’s already been given so much. _The something_ that was simply a feeling under his skin and was barely a whisper in his mind became _more_. It had a voice and thought and feelings separated from Tom’s own. Or maybe it had always had its own thoughts and Tom had simply thought of them as his own?

Regardless, _the something_ slowly became fully aware.

It was not constantly sentient, and it’s thoughts were scattered and more feeling then full words, but sometimes Tom would hear a full thought or it would speak directly to him. At most it was like words whispered in the wind that Tom had to concentrate hard to catch. But everyday, it would speak and feel more and more, until it finally was present with Tom constantly.

Before this new stage, Tom could only describe _the something_ as always sleeping. It slept with him, present but not aware, every day since he could possibly remember- and he has an amazing memory. He could remember things clearly since he was two. _The something_ was always there right under his skin, but it only became aware maybe once or twice a month, enough to send emotions and tingles in his skin, only for it to settle back in slumber until the next time. But it was always there, he could always feel it.

But now it was more, and sometimes it would speak to him, and Tom kept every instance close to his heart.

He prayed and wished and hoped that one day the voice would become more and more until he could feel actual skin on his own.

* * *

Summer was in full swing but Tom still found himself outside the orphanage making his way towards the park. Just moments before he had watched the Matron convince another couple to consider a different child to adopt- any child who wasn’t Tom. They had fawned over simple Billy Stubbs but Tom knew they didn’t come for him. They came with specific ideas and a checklist of what child they wanted. Young, polite, and intelligent.

He had heard them discussing this with the Matron and he made sure to make himself as presentable as possible. They were rich and really that’s all Tom cared about. The wife had instantly pointed him out and _-smile- - it’s your best feature- -mums love it-_ he smiled. She instantly had pat at his hair and asked questions and even her husband seemed intrigued with him. He knew without having to _look_ that these two would take him home. The children all sneered behind the couples back but Tom was still so incredibly happy and _-proud- -of course they’d want you- -you’re amazing- -so happy_ \- didn’t pay the stupid kids any mind..

But that all went downhill when he caught sight of Mrs. Cole’s look of contempt. His stomach filled with dread and _-anger- -how dare she- -why-_ he watched her pull the couple away to speak to them in the privacy of her office. When they came back out they never even glanced at him, deciding to simply pretend he hadn’t existed. Tom felt numb and empty and so stupid for even _hoping_ . He glanced once at Billy’s ugly toothy smile _-ugly child- -they won’t take him- -he’s stupid- -git-_ before deciding to leave. It was clear the Matron ruined his chances of getting adopted again and he feared the kind of actions he’d resort to in his anger if he stayed inside.

He grabbed a couple rocks off the grassy floor and threw them in anger. The numbness that had racked his body earlier was replaced with rage, the kind that made his body shake. His mind tried to reason with his rage, but he couldn’t listen to the reasonable voice in his head. He was too upset to listen to reason because how much was there to reason the fact that the Matron ruined his chances of a decent life _again_ ? Was he hated and thought of so little that he deserved this? _-NO- -no- -NO-_

Voices laughing close behind him made him spin around and he clutched the last rock tightly in his fist. Billy and his three friends came into view and Tom fought hard to keep his scowl off his face. _-run- -don’t engage- fear-_ What did they have to fear from stupid ugly Billy?

“Stupid creepy Tommy doesn’t get a family.”

Tom scowled at the stupid boy. “You don’t either stupid. If you did you’d be leaving with them.”

Tom pointed out into the distance and the boys followed his gaze. The rich family from earlier was escorted back to their car with no orphan trailing after them. _-ha!- -I told you- -stupid ugly git-_ The older boys gave Billy a slightly pitying look but Tom could see the true emotions underneath the fake pity. The orphans might all like to pretend to be friends, but each one of them hated the lucky kids who won the affections of the adopters. Billy turned back to Tom with his fists balled and his face becoming a blotchy red. The other boys also turned their attention back on Tom.

Billy was as old as Tom, but two of the three boys with him, Eliot and George, were two years older and the youngest was little Pop, actual name Paul, who barely turned six a month ago. George had a stupid smile that matched Billy’s and Tom fought hard to keep a shiver down. Anxiety bubbled across his shoulders and Tom tried to quiet down _the something’s_ emotions. What did it have to fear? Billy and his friends were stupid kids who knew better than to hurt him. The  something in his mind didn’t reply to his direct questions, but Tom could feel something building up under his skin. His limbs felt tight, like they do when he’s about to run.

His waring emotions, his own and with the something in his head, distracted him a lot more than he realized and he suddenly found himself on the floor, a pained grunt leaving his lips as the pain in his abdomen finally registered. _-up uP UP- -I’m so sorry- -RUN-_ But he couldn’t, as his arms were pinned to the grassy floor by George and Eliot. He tried to struggle, he did, but soon kicks started to fall on his chest and stomach and Tom couldn’t find his voice to cry out. Pain was all consuming and Tom wasn’t half aware of what he was doing. He couldn’t hear his voice screaming, he couldn’t hear his pleas to stop, he couldn’t feel his body struggling with his little strength to get out of the boys’ hold. Panic settled in his bones, and below his skin and in the distance he could hear _the something_ trying to speak to him.

He wanted it stop, he wanted them to stop, to leave him alone, to get them away. Far far away from him. A foot crashed into his face and suddenly all there was was hate and pain and heat.

Heat that tingled under his skin that didn’t go unnoticed as the pain continued from his attackers until it expanded out of him, escaping from every pore on his body, and unleashed on all the kids around him. The force of that power pushed the children away like a strong gust of wind and Paul found himself thrown a lot farther than the other boys. They all landed on the grassy floor with pained grunts and Billy felt something snap when he went down.

Eliot was the first to get up, and though he was scared and weary, he was so angry. How dare that little freak try to hurt them? They were older, stronger, and now Tom’s freakishness touched all of them. He stood up, ignored his shaking limbs and ran toward Tom’s still form. He got close, raised his leg, a yell on his lips, only for that same force of sheer energy to expand and release from Tom- pushing and flinging Eliot back into the air.

Eliot crashed back onto the ground and finally allowed himself to cry. George ran to Eliot and helped them to stand. He grunted a bit but easily went up, even as his limbs still couldn’t stop shaking and the tears wouldn’t stop streaming. Paul had crawled over to Billy and the two older boys finally realized that he was holding his arm close to his body and crying ugly tears. George barely gave Tom Riddle’s unconscious body a glance. He hoped the little freak died!

The older boys went to the younger ones and helped Billy up. George limped a bit but he pushed through it, instead worrying about dumb Billy. He hated Tom as much as everyone else in the orphanage, but he knew they shouldn’t have messed with him. And now Billy was hurt and Paul looked close to freaking out. The four boys limped back to the orphanage where the Matron took one look at Billy’s face and twisted arm and took him straight to the local doctor.

* * *

‘It hurts!’ Tom screamed, but his mouth did not open. His eyes could barely stay open, but even so, all he can see is darkness. He cannot see the trees from the park, or the blue of the sky. He can not see the cruel kids who hurt him so much. Only darkness, and he can feel the panic overwhelming the pain of his broken body.  

 _I know Tom, I know. I’m so sorry._ It was a voice he heard before, once before, in a dream perhaps. But it fills him with such hope that Tom couldn’t stop himself from crying out for that voice. ‘Why did they have to hurt me? I didn’t do anything to them!’

_I don’t know Tom. Muggles simply hate what they can’t understand._

‘I don’t…’ Tom wasn’t aware enough to ask the voice about his odd word. The pain was rushing through his body like the waves of a strong tide. He couldn’t tell if his heart was beating too quickly or too slowly now.

_I will explain in time I promise. But you need to listen carefully._

‘Please help me. It hurts so much. I, I cant breathe! Help me!’ Pain and hope raged war in his darkness but suddenly- a hand, strong and warm and burning. It pressed against his chest and he felt like he could breathe again.

_Shh Tom shh, I will take care of you._

Yes, yes, Tom believed it could. Whatever the hand had done made him able to breathe again and he trusted it to help him further. ‘Please help please. It hurts so much.’

_I need your full consent Tom. I need you to give me full control._

‘Anything! Anything please! I don’t- I don’t- I don’t want to die!’ Tom didn’t know what else he could possibly say. Though he could breathe his body still hurt and the pain was winning now. Everywhere hurt and he felt he was coming so close to his end. He...he was so scared, terrified, and Tom could feel hot tears trailing down his bruised face.

_I’ve got you now Tom. You’ll be alright soon. I’m here Tom. Just rest now, I will take care of everything. Sleep Tom. I’ve got you._

The darkness consumed him and he willingly gave himself to the press of warm limbs encasing his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any mistakes! Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Expect heavy dialogue in the next chapter!


	2. To Think Is To Be Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimed: Don't own Harry Potter, I make no money off this, and no beta so all mistakes are mine!
> 
> Thank you guys so much for all the kudos, comments, hits, and bookmarks! I'm really happy to see so much interest in my fic! I didn't really expect much from a random idea I wanted to try to put into words, but you guys definitely encouraged me to keep writing. Thank you all again!!! 
> 
> Fair warning, this chapter has a ton of dialogue. I rewrote this chapter about three times, but it was hard to find a perfect way of explaining everything- most of it at least. But after this chapter and the next, the story should start picking up. Thank you for your patience, I really hope to make it worth it!
> 
> Hope you enjoy the new chapter! c:

Chapter 1: To Think Is To Be Alive

* * *

  
Tom didn’t want to wake up.

For the first time in a long time the room was warm and cozy- and not from the overbearing heat of the summer sun. Winter air still breezed against his window but under his blankets he was protected from the harsh elements. It was curious though, and that was what slowly brought him out of his deep sleep.

The blankets at the orphanage were thin, perfect for summer nights but horrible for winter ones. It usually left him shivering worse than a leaf in fall and with fingers and toes that never seemed to thaw. He usually would have to steal two or three more from the others if he wanted some semblance of warmth but he knows that Martha had recently stolen them back and he hadn’t gotten a chance to find new ones.

So why was he so warm?

He almost didn’t want to find out. This was a gift and he wanted to soak it in as much as he could, and he could still feel the aching tiredness deep in his bones. So his mind and body wanted him to sleep and he himself was ready to give into that- but something wanted him awake.

The something-

Dark eyes snapped open and suddenly Tom didn’t care that he was warm and cozy and his body was oddly numb under the blankets. He remembered everything that happened, sort of, and the most jarring thing was the fact that he remembers clearly that it was not winter the last time he was awake.

Tom sat up quickly, not noticing that his body wasn’t in any kind of pain that caused him to sleep so heavily in the first place.

He looked around the room and he knows he’s seen this place before, he had to have had, but his mind can’t seem to place it. The red furniture with its gold fixtures, the old stone walls, the roaring fire, the soft plush carpets to cover the cold floor. He took everything in, trying to remember where he had seen this place before. He looked down at the blanket covering his legs- it was red with a yellow fringe and a crest of some sort over the expanse of the blanket. He debated throwing it off and exploring the room more to jog his memory, or just to stay under the heavy object and let it coerce him back to sleep.

He looked back at the room, making note of the two armchairs placed across from him with a mahogany coffee table in the middle. He looked at the walls of the circular room and made note of the tapestries strewn about. There was a table pressed against a far wall with only two cushioned seats. The oddest thing in the room, besides the fact that he’d never seen this room before -and why was there so much bright red- was the painting above the fireplace. The painting was of a black dragon with a red underbelly falling from the sky.

He’d never read much fantasy novels, but he’d read about dragons, and seeing a powerful creature fall was daunting in some odd way. He didn’t like the painting at all, and he tore his gaze away and instead focused on the fact that the room was so familiar, but nothing he saw jogged his memory in some way.

His internal ponderings were interrupted suddenly when a previously unnoticed door behind the couch he was still laying on suddenly groaned and creaked opened. Tom’s eyes widened when he noticed the figure walking through the door. It was a young man, with pale skin and shaggy, raven colored hair. He was oddly familiar, just like the room, but Tom still couldn’t grasp his memories. It was frustrating, and Tom was beyond annoyed at himself, but he recognized that getting angry wouldn’t help his confusing situation any better.

Tom opened his mouth to greet him -or demand an answer from- before he stopped himself and carefully looked at the guy. He was clearly exhausted- his body was hunched over and he was leaning far too heavily on the doorframe. He was breathing deeply, like he had just been running, but Tom couldn’t see a hint of sweat on the man’s skin. Tom glanced behind the raven haired man’s sagging form and froze.

Beyond the door was complete and utter darkness- a void of absolute nothingness.

Tom felt rooted at the spot but he knew the raven needed help. He didn’t know if that darkness was what caused the guy’s exhaustion but he definitely wouldn’t doubt it. Tom debated for a second, fighting the urge to run from the endless darkness beyond the door frame and wanting to run straight to the quickly lowering figure. The dark had never scared him, whether in the safety of his own room, locked in the basement for punishment, or even if he never made it to the orphanage in time before curfew and the matron locked him out. But in all those instances the dark couldn’t compare to the complete nothingness that the darkness seemed to be. There was absolutely no light found in any way inside that darkness, that nothingness, that endless void.

Tom balled up his fists and brought one foot before the other. If the mystery guy could stand in front of the endless darkness and not be consumed by it, Tom should be fine too.

With each new step Tom gained his confidence back until he was nearly running to the sagging figure. He threw the raven’s arm around his shoulders and pushed up, helping him to stand while taking the raven’s dead weight. The man wasn’t overtly tall, but Tom was still a child (unfortunately) and most people were taller than him. They stumbled back and forth and Tom was too concentrated on keeping them upright and walking toward the couch to hear the raven mumbling to himself until he heard him pleading for Tom to stay just a little longer and Tom recognized the voice. All individual memories pertaining to it finally became strikingly clear, as if he never suffered a small bout of memory loss earlier.

This man was the something that lived under his skin and in his mind, and the something was the man who lived in this pocket of warmth that Tom fully remembers now.

This was the something that saved Tom from the pain. The warm hand on his chest that helped him breathe. The one that asked Tom’s full consent so he could do something to save Tom.

Oddly enough, Tom couldn’t bring himself to ask the questions dying to leave his lips as he helped the raven lay on the couch. Without thought Tom helped lift the somethings legs onto the couch and threw the blanket he was using just moments before on the guys lap. He lifted the somethings neck and head so he can put one of the decorative pillows under his head. Tom tried not to think of the softness of the somethings raven locks and instead focused on the fact that the something was a lot colder than last time, and Tom distinctly remembers the guy wasn’t as pale before either.

Tom was dying to know what had happened and a tiny bit fearful on the answer he’d get.

The something still hadn’t open his eyes since he saw him by the door and Tom was getting exceedingly worried. He wasn’t mumbling anymore, but his breathing had finally slowed enough to normal and Tom had to concede that was better than nothing.

A wisp of ice cold air against his cheek brought him out of his musing and Tom noticed the something shiver slightly. Tom fixed the blanket to cover the rest of his body sans his neck and the raven sighed in contentment. The odd, but suddenly very familiar, breeze reached his skin again and Tom followed it to find the cold air was coming from outside the still open door.

All at once, the vast darkness beyond the door frame didn’t seem so intimidating- instead it was familiar in the way the something did underneath his skin, but this was still much more personal. So strangely familiar that for a crazy moment Tom thought of himself beyond the door. The breeze was no longer ice cold, but the perfect cool temperature he prefers and wishes was all year round. The same temperature his skin was constantly, no matter how hot the summer got or how many layers he threw on himself. It was him outside the door-

“-Tom!”

A hand pushed the door shut with a sharp bang and it snapped whatever hazy fog Tom was caught in- his eyes tore away from the now hidden nothingness and followed the hand to the person who owned it. The something stood on shaking limbs in front of him and Tom felt the sudden urge to apologize. His pride wouldn’t let him of course, but it didn’t stop the ugly guilt from festering in his stomach. He didn’t even know why he felt guilty. He didn’t understand a lot of things going on since he woke up and it was frustrating!

“Tom.” A hand brushed against his cheek, a hand so warm Tom almost wondered if it could burn him. He didn’t want to look at the something, but he did, slowly, and he relaxed when the only look on the raven’s face was of concern. “Are you hurting at all? Any pain?”

Tom suddenly couldn’t find his voice and he cursed himself for being so stupid. What was he, five? He’d never been this inarticulate!

“Tom?”

“I’m fine.” He bit out, honestly astonished at the level of animosity in his voice. Was he actually that upset at the something? What possibly for? If he remembered correctly, the something saved him!

The something sighed, took his hand away from Tom’s cheek (and Tom didn’t even realize it stayed there but now that it was gone he wanted it back now) and pointed flippantly at the door. “I’m sure you’ve probably figured it out, but beyond that door is, well, you. Everything that makes up you. Your thoughts, dreams, magic, soul- you.”

That made as much sense as everything else going on throughout his life lately- which means not at all. He voiced this very thought. The something chuckled.

The raven gestured to the couch and Tom trailed after him, only sitting as far as he was willing to look like he didn’t crave the something’s presence near his.

“Did I do this to you? Out there?” Tom questioned slowly, hoping the answer wasn’t a yes as he gestured to all of the ravens body. He still looked utterly exhausted, and when he sat on the couch he seemed to sink into the plush cushions with a pleased and tired sigh.

“No Tom, no, not at all. It’s actually pretty relaxing walking through your magic. My magic itself is pretty hot so it’s kind of cooling in a sense. But what I did is- well it’s hard to explain. When you gave me consent, you gave me control of your body.”

“Wait wait-” Tom shot up from his seat, “-you possessed me? Are you a demon?”

The something laughed with his full body, his head thrown back in clear amusement. “No no! I bloody well hope not at least!”

Tom glared as harshly as he could. “Explain something then! The only thing I’ve heard about possession is from demons. So if you’re not the devil, what are you?”

“You’re right, sorry, I forget the Matron makes you sit through every service they’ve got going doesn’t she? The best I can understand it, I am a spirit of a sorts, but I’m definitely not a demon.”

Tom didn’t know when he started pacing but he stopped suddenly when the something, no the spirit, confirmed it wasn’t human. He didn’t want to try to decipher what the spirit said about the Matron (because how the hell does he know that) since he wanted to focus on the bigger issue at the moment. The biggest issue being the fact that he had a spirit inside him.

Tom sat on the coffee table in front of the spirit, elbows on his knees, and his mouth covered by his clenched fists. “Start from the beginning.”

The spirits green eyes shined with equal parts mirth and weariness. “Of course my Lord.”

Tom only replied with glaring harder.

“The beginning of all this starts like this: My name is Harry James Potter, I was born on July 31st, 1980 and I was murdered before I could reach my 18th birthday.”

“Wait,” Tom interrupted, hands falling away from his mouth in disbelief. “That doesn’t make any sense at all. It’s 1934- how is it even possible to be dead in the future and be trapped as a spirit here?”

The something, the spirit, Harry, adopted the same sitting style like Tom’s, eyes hard. “I swear on my magic that I’m not lying about this. I was born in the 80’s, witnessed a few historical events, lived to the late 90’s- then died. Next thing I know I’m floating in this dark abyss of endless cold. I honestly thought I was in a purgatory of some sort because I was alone. Utterly alone for, Merlin, I don’t even know how long. It took me ages to become fully aware of something living beside me, but even then it wasn’t exactly a person like I was. Well, I assumed I was anyways. I couldn’t see anything in front of my face, but I could feel my own body with my hands.

“Going back to the other living thing- It’s strange to put it into words because there is no words to describe life, and the creation of it. It wasn’t just a ball of light that grew and grew and grew. The darkness around me seemed to echo with life. Tom, you were born, and the life around me was you. Somehow, someway, my soul made its way inside your body, or attached to your soul, or something along those lines. I haven’t really been able to get a clear answer since-” He makes a show of gesturing to the whole room. “I’ve just been “living” here since you were born. Not many chances to go outside.

“Anyways, I was semi-content to live beside you, there but not, until you were a full blown infant. It felt like I was a passenger in my own body. I could see through your eyes, feel your emotions, hear your thoughts, but I couldn’t do anything. Which makes sense, it wasn’t my body, but it was frustrating. That went on for a little while, you growing and me getting angrier, until one day it all came to a head.” Harry paused for a long moment, seemingly debating whether he should tell the whole story Tom guessed. Luckily he seemed to resign himself to continue, and he took a large breath. “You were hungry, starving really, but you weren’t making any sort of noise to get any attention on yourself. You, a baby, were already so stubborn. But I can feel your hunger, I was almost hungry myself, and you weren’t doing anything. I reached my boiling point then, and my anger got the better of me. Suddenly you were crying, arms flailing because I needed to eat, and a caretaker came over and fed us. But the second I got what I wanted and relaxed, suddenly I was back in the abyss and I realized I was in control of your body. Honestly, it terrified me. I didn’t want to take over your body. This is your body, your mind, your life. And I just took it over with no control of how I did it.

“So to protect you from me, I started building up my occlumency shields again. I didn’t think to use them when I woke up alone in the darkness so they got a little rusty. But with me affecting you enough to take over if I get too emotional made me practice the art again. It was slow going, but with practice I was able to keep myself completely separated from you. But keeping myself completely cut off basically left me alone in the darkness once again. With so much time on my hands, I decided to try my hand at making myself a mind palace. Muggles are definitely a lot different from us, but even I have to admit sometimes they have amazing ideas.” Harry interrupted his speech to laugh and Tom fought hard not to ask questions. What the hell was a muggle? Harry continued on and Tom silently cursed himself for choosing a coffee table to sit on rather than one of the blasted armchairs.

“So I constructed my own form of a mind palace and decided on a place that I have the fondest memory of. This room is the common room of my dorm. It’s definitely seen me through many restless nights. The best feature that took me forever to construct was the fire. For the longest time it just looked and sounded like fire but it was never warm.” Harry stopped suddenly, and he looked a bit sheepish at Tom’s unimpressed look. “Sorry, moving on. I didn’t realize how much of my magic it took- both from taking over your body so forcefully and creating my occlumency shields. For the first time in a long time I actually got magically exhausted. Didn’t stop me from continuing to strengthen the barrier or fix up the common room, but I admit it did take a while.

“So this whole time I was building up my magic again, keeping up the shields and creating this room, and checking up on you from time to time. Outside that door I can access your mind and see through your eyes. I never went further than that for a long time. But as you got older,” Harry chuckled a bit. “I couldn’t help it. You grew on me, and I wanted to protect you in some odd fashion. I could recognize the orphanage for what it was when you were a toddler, and I knew you weren’t going to have an easy life. And you’re a wizard growing up raised by muggles! That was definitely a recipe for disaster. So I told myself I’d be a passenger from time to time, check up on you, and that’s all. No further involvement no matter what. I wasn’t going to risk taking over again at all.

“But one day...you noticed I was there. I was actually just about to go back to the common room, this room, when your magic brushed against mine. Not on purpose, but I think you subconsciously felt something odd in your mind and you thought about it so your magic responded to your curiosity by probing at me. Since then, you’ve always been aware in some way that I was there. I tried to be as careful as I could, even going as far as masking my magic completely, and you still knew I was there. I stopped masking myself so completely after, but I did notice that you were a little uncomfortable when I unmasked my magic completely. It was a bunch of trial and error after that, but I soon found a happy medium, and you were subconsciously pleased.”

Harry paused in his story, looking at Tom seriously for a split second. “This is all completely new to me- I’ve never read about this kind of body sharing before in all my years of study. But regardless, somehow, you were aware I was there. I still kept myself pretty limited in my checking, but when I was present and started noticing how amazing, smart, and talented you were? I couldn’t help but reach out and let my shields down a little to at least say how proud I was of you. Because damn Tom, you’re a pretty amazing kid do you know that? It absolutely boggles my mind. Sometimes I’ll find myself sitting in your mind and just listening to you work out problems way above your level or theorize certain ideas and concepts and I’m blown away. Nobody realizes what a genius you are do they?”

Tom hadn’t reacted once to Harry’s words, trying to take in every word and not giving himself a chance to miss a single thing- but the last thing Harry was saying had Tom looking away with his face suddenly going hot. Tom didn’t want to bring it up, didn’t want to put attention to Harry’s words, but secretly Tom was pleased. How many times had the children made him feel like a freak just because he was smarter than them? He doesn’t feel like that anymore of course, but he can’t seem to forget the brief time he was disgustingly weak to their cruel words. The only comfort he had at the time was the something being present with him, sending pulses of warmth in some form of comfort. Tom wanted to groan. It meant that the something wasn’t some alien entity or whatever he thought it was, but an actual person who was there for all his embarrassingly weak moments of his life.

It was a long time before Tom could get himself to speak, and even then, he didn’t say everything -or anything- he wanted to ask. Because really, where could he even start with all this? It was becoming more and more like a dream as Harry continued to talk, and honestly, Tom would probably believe Harry was a demon a lot easier than whatever Harry was saying instead. Nothing was making a lick of sense and Tom had to wonder if he really was barmy.

“You’re a very bad storyteller.” Even that was hard to get out, but he had to say something. He felt like he was ready to burst with questions and demands and whatever other emotions running its course through his mind.

Harry sat back with an amused laugh, absently grabbing the blanket and tossing it over his lap. He played with the gold colored fringes and moved his gaze towards the fire. “Would you believe me if I told you I actually rehearsed all this for hours almost everyday since you began to notice me? It obviously didn’t help me any.”

Tom couldn’t bring himself to reply with words but he did feel a slight uprise at the corner of his lips. He didn’t know what he wanted to say to Harry, because he certainly didn’t know how he feels about any of this just yet.

“Look, long story short: I died, and instead of moving on to the afterlife or getting reborn or ceasing to exist, or whatever we all think happens when we die, I found myself in your body and I’ve been “living” here ever since. I’m not a demon, I’m human. I’ve got a soul and magic and basic morals.” Harry sighed tiredly, rubbing at his face harshly.

There was so many questions burning on the tip of his tongue, the biggest one simply being magic, but before he could even give into his curiosity, he had to get the rest of the story. Surely there was more than just that. There had to at least be a reason all this happened in the first place, right?

Question after question surfaced in his mind begging to be answered but he shoved it aside. The rest of the story first, then he could ask his questions.

“What made you start talking to me then? What made you reach out to me outside of when I found myself in this room?”

Harry smiled slightly, green eyes distant as he seemed caught in a fond yet sad memory. “You called out to me.”

A dusting of pink made its way on Tom’s cheeks and his mind jumped to that memory of his sixth birthday where there was not a single birthday wish, no extra candy sweet on his dinner tray, no gift- nothing. That winter had been especially cold, and all the kids had received a ‘new’ blanket as their holiday gift for that year. Everyone except Tom. He held out hope that he’d receive one on his birthday, but when he was gifted with nothing and even blatantly ignored, Tom knew that he’d be hated no matter how well behaved, polite, studious, or helpful he tried to be. The end of the year found Tom scorned by the hatred of everyone around him, and the new year found him purging himself of their derision and rising above all of them.

He had made himself a vow to never let himself be swayed by their mockery, scorn, and contempt for him ever again. Never again would he let himself feel less than what he was- superior. He was not like all those weak, stupid, spiteful, malicious children and caretakers of the orphanage. He was meant for greatness, and he wasn’t going to let them drag him down again.

But what embarrassed Tom now when the memory flashed through his mind, wasn’t the weak emotions he had fully felt before shredding himself of them- but the fact that he had cried and begged for the something on his birthday night. It, or now called Harry, had answered his call in the only way it could with pulses of warmth that spread from his chest and to his shoulders and down his arms. He fell asleep to wisps of warmth on his skin and woke up with a blazing determination.

He never really connected the fact that that evening was what spurred the something to become more.

Harry continued his story, ignorant of the chaotic jumble of emotions Tom was trying to repress. “And I figured, being a wizard and all, you were going to figure me out sooner or later. So instead of just appearing in your mind without warning, I decided to introduce myself slowly. Each time I’d pull down my barriers just enough to let out surface thoughts and emotions, but kept my magic back. I was going to let this go on for a little while longer, but then one day you invaded all my defenses and found yourself here. I definitely did not expect that at all. I’m guessing you remember that meeting now?”

Tom jerked his head in answer and Harry continued.

“I knew from that I’d have to speed up my introduction so I started to introduce my memories into your dreams. That was mostly testing a theory but-”

“You messed with my dreams?! Is that why I can’t remember them?!”

Harry quickly shook his head and raised his palms up in a placating manner. “No no, you have some pretty impressive natural barriers that keep your subconscious pretty separated from your conscious is my theory. You haven’t remembered many dreams long before I even started to send memories. My theory was that since they were memories and not stories created from your subconscious you’d be able to remember them, and thus start learning about me without suddenly meeting me- but besides residual emotions or feelings, you were never fully aware of them. I did notice a positive reaction to them though and our connection seemed stronger after that, so I didn’t mind sending some memories of a few adventures I’ve been on.”

Tom looked pensive but he made a motion for Harry to continue. Harry snorted.

“There’s not a lot more after that. I continued to slowly interact with you more and more, sent you a few dreams, and that’s about it.”

“That can’t be all,” Tom argued. “What about when Billy and his gang of idiots jumped me. I’ve been attacked by other kids before and you-”

Tom paused, thinking hard about that attack. Now that he was thinking about it, he doesn’t remember what happened after one of them kicked him in the face. Everything went completely dark and he couldn’t feel anything but pain. That’s when the something, Harry, started to talk to him, right?

“What happened? If we’re in my mind right now, does that mean I’m passed out on the park floor still? How much time has passed? Am I dying?”

“No, no, none of those things. When you passed out, I used that moment to talk to you, to ask you for permission. When you gave it, I “woke” up on the grassy floor and saw the four shits walking away. I haven’t used my magic so extensively since I woke up in your body so using my magic to heal your body was slow going. When it was healed enough to not be on the brink of passing out again, I made my way back to the orphanage and snuck into your room. I healed your body completely and then fell asleep. So more than likely when you make your way back to your body, it’ll be late morning- maybe even afternoon? You might be in a world of pain still though, sorry.”

“Is that why you came back so exhausted?”

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. “Basically. I’m not really adept with healing spells so I had to use my raw magic to fix your body. Since I haven’t used it in forever, it was basically like having to force someone to get up and run when they’ve been wheelchair bound for more than a year. So more than likely I’m going to sleep for a couple days to get my strength back, but it’s nothing to worry about.”

Tom mulled over his words for a while, filing away things to ask later when Tom was finished fully processing the things he’s already been told about.

“Wait, something doesn't add up. What made the idiots stop? I didn’t think passing out would really stop them from making sure I was done for good. Did you use your...magic, to stop them?”

Harry gave Tom a strange look, one that made Tom wonder if he wanted to hear Harry’s answer.

“Tom, you’re the one that stopped them.” 

* * *

 “Let me just try to process this. So I’m a wizard, I have magic, all the weird things I’ve been able to do have all been my magic, and what saved me was accidental magic?”

By now Harry was fully spread out on the couch with the blanket tucked over him, looking at Tom with eyes threatening to fall shut. He nodded his head slowly, as if that took all the energy in the world to do. Tom was pacing in front of the fire, shooting Harry incredulous looks from time to time as he pondered over Harry’s words. Tom suddenly stopped in his tracks and kept his gaze on the fire.

He always knew he was special, brilliant, superior, and now he was given confirmation that he was all that and more. He was a wizard, and even compared to other wizards his age, his magic and his control of it was far above everyone else's. Harry himself had confirmed it and so far he hadn’t seemed to be lying. Tom always had a knack for knowing when someone was lying, and Tom had to chalk it up to his magic as well. Surely wizards could read minds right? Harry had made mentions of making barriers to protect his mind, so surely wizards can do the opposite and invade minds.

A world had been opened for him and Tom wanted to immerse himself in it. He thought he might have been a bit more skeptical when told he was a wizard and magical, but instead of disbelieving Harry’s words, it was like he was just waiting for confirmation. And when he heard it, he knew it was truth- there was no room for doubt. He was a wizard, and it was so entwined with him already that he couldn’t think of himself as anything but.

Tom snapped his gaze back to the sleepy green eyed wizard with a determined look on his face.

“You’re going to teach me everything about magic.”

“Sure,” Harry slurred a bit, fighting everything telling him to just sleep. “But later. Let’s go to sleep first yeah?”

Tom huffed, but when Harry lifted a corner of the blanket in silent invitation, Tom found it difficult to say no. His pride was the only thing keeping him from running to Harry’s side and keeping the slight embarrassed flush off his cheeks. But he did find himself laying next to the teen soon after and he easily found comfort in Harry’s arm wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him closer to the raven. Warmth enveloped his form and Tom might have been wide awake moments before, but now he finds his eyes drooping every second he tried to keep them open.

Harry absently moved his hands back and forth on Tom’s arm and with the warm of the fire at his back, the warmth of Harry pressed against his side, and the lullaby of Harry’s ministrations, Tom found himself drifting to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it through all that, you deserve the kudos more than I ever will lol 
> 
> Sorry again for the lengthy chapter of just dialogue. The next chapter should have close to the same amount, since now Tom is going to learn more about magic and Harry's specific condition, but I'll try to keep it to the minimum. 
> 
> Regardless, I hope you enjoyed! See you next chapter! ;)


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